Dinner with a Vampire

ELEVEN

Violet

It was the morning of August 7th when Fabian came in. One week and the hope I had of getting out had faded. On the bright side, Charity the whore had left.

‘There is something on the news about your family. Do you want to come and see it?’ he asked after explaining I could leave my room again. I followed him, a small spark of hope reigniting as we entered the living room and I saw my photo – a school photo, of all things – plastered across the screen. Above it was the word ‘missing’. The others were gathered around the sofas, watching the screen as the news theme blared and images of various stories flashed up.

The music finished, and the female news anchor on the left looked up from her laptop. ‘Violet Lee, daughter of the Secretary of State for Defence, Michael Lee, was today officially reported as missing.’ My face popped up once again. ‘Miss Lee was last seen on July 31st at around 1 a.m., in the area around Trafalgar Square. Fears have arisen that she may have witnessed the murder of thirty men, dubbed London’s Bloodbath, and been abducted by the murderers. This claim has not been verified by the Metropolitan Police, who are widening their search to include the Greater London area.’

The screen switched to footage of several police officers with sniffer dogs, searching the outskirts of London. My hands gripped the back of the sofa as my knees ceased to feel so solid.

‘It has been confirmed that a high-heeled shoe found at the scene of the murder belongs to Miss Lee, although police have dismissed the idea of her being a suspect.’ A picture of my shoe in a clear plastic bag appeared behind the male anchor’s head. ‘Questions have been raised as to why Miss Lee’s disappearance was not reported earlier, and today the Secretary of State gave in to public pressure and made a statement.’

My father appeared, clutching my mother’s hand. They were sitting behind a table, a rabble of journalists snapping pictures and holding dictaphones. A large picture of me as well as the hotline to call with information scrolled along behind them on a blue screen. I choked a little as I saw them, especially as I saw tears roll down my mother’s cheeks. My father’s expression was calm; controlled.

‘We are working with the police to try and find our daughter, and we would like to thank them for their support,’ he said, speaking without wavering, into a microphone.

A journalist stood up, calling over the buzz. ‘Do you think this may be linked to anti-war protestors, who oppose your decision to send more troops to the Middle East?’

My father shook his head. ‘I refuse to comment on policy. This is not the time or place. We just want our daughter back. We miss her.’ At this point, my mother broke down into sobs; through them, I could hear her begging for me to come home.

My eyes stung as my own tears formed. I wanted to reach out and touch her. I wanted to comfort her; to tell her I was okay, even though I wasn’t; even though I wouldn’t come out of this human. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was frozen to the spot, wanting to stop watching, but unable to tear my eyes from the screen. Fabian placed a hand on the small of my back. I pushed him off.

‘Since Michael Lee ascended to the position of shadow defence minister and then took up the role with his party’s election three years ago, the family has suffered unparalleled grief. Four years ago, at the age of just seventeen, the Lee’s eldest child, Greg Lee, died after taking a heroin overdose. In October of last year, Lillian Lee was diagnosed with leukaemia and is currently undergoing treatment.’ The reporter finished and I felt the blood drain from my head. Air stopped reaching my lungs as I forgot to breathe.

‘We now have a message from Lillian.’

Lily – my beautiful sister, Lily – came up on the screen. She was lying in a hospital bed, all sorts of wires attached to her wrists. She was paler than the parasites beside me, her arms seeming to have a faint green tinge. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot and she looked thin and frail, save for her cheeks, which were swollen from the steroids. She was bald, but it didn’t matter. She was my beautiful little sister, cancer or not. She looked so ill, but I knew that was from the treatment.

A microphone was placed under her mouth, and she began to rasp her words. I could tell it took effort.

‘V-Violet. I know you’re out there. T-they’ll let you go and come home.’ She closed her eyes, a peaceful expression taking over her face.

The screen changed back to the newsroom, and the anchor people, looking awkward, began explaining how to contact the police with information.

Hours later, I was still numb. Numb and cold. I couldn’t feel anything: no pain and no hope, no happiness and no fear. Just nothing.

Fabian was holding me and I let my head fall onto his frozen shoulder. His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into him. I was beyond tears, which I knew he would be glad of: his T-shirt was damp. A thousand and one tissues lay in the bin nearby, and my nose was sore, my eyes red and puffy.

‘No more crying, okay? I won’t let you cry any more. Your family would want you to be strong, wouldn’t they?’ Concern etched his angular face, twisting it into beautiful contortions.

I nodded and rubbed my nose; his face lost a little of the worry. I blinked and noticed that the others were surrounding me. The King, Lyla, Kaspar, Cain, Thyme, Charlie, Felix, Declan and two men I didn’t recognize. Two beautiful women clung to their sides, a baby in the arms of one, a child clinging to the other hand of the same woman. Both of the men and children all shared the same mesmerizing emerald eyes.

Sky and Jag, I thought. They have to be, with those eyes.

The one with the family looked older and I guessed he was Sky – Thyme had said he was the eldest. The beautiful women I could only assume were their partners. Not one of them looked a day older than twenty-five. Once I had taken in the newcomers I lowered my head to stare at my lap, feeling like a fish in a fishbowl.

Kaspar cleared his throat and I looked up to see him holding a phone in his hand, which he offered to me. ‘Two minutes, no more.’

I stared at it in disbelief.

‘Go on, knock yourself out,’ Fabian murmured, a small smile crossing his lips. ‘You need it.’

I looked down at the phone, uncertain, not sure of whether I wanted to do this. What if it made me hurt more?

Oh, but you want to, don’t you? my voice taunted and I knew it was right. I snatched the phone from his hand and hurried from the room, working the stiffness out of my hands as they gripped the phone like a newborn child.

‘Remember we can hear every word you say,’ Kaspar called as I closed the door of the living room behind me, settling on the staircase. I didn’t really listen and dialled my home number, listening to it ring with baited breath. My heart peaked and stayed there as two rings became three, and three became four. I was nervous. I didn’t know why.

‘Hello?’

My heart fell through my gut and I made a whining sound, and choked out, ‘Dad?’

‘Violet?’ the all too familiar voice replied, astonished.

‘Yeah,’ I murmured in a feeble voice, words failing me.

There was a crackling down the line as though he was covering the mouthpiece and I thought I heard voices at his end, talking heatedly. Then there was another crackle and he came back, speaking with an unnerving urgency.

‘I’m going to assume you’re being listened to, so I can’t tell you much. I know it’s the Varns who have you and I know what they are. It must be a shock to you to discover about all of this and I never intended for you to know about it at all. I know your situation must seem impossible, from what I’ve heard from these bloodsucker ambassadors.’ He spat out the last sentence with such venom, even I was shocked – and I had heard him angry. ‘But it’s really important you don’t give up. Don’t turn, whatever they say or do. Do you understand, Vi?’ When I didn’t answer because I was trying to absorb his hurried words, he pressed the question: ‘Do you? Promise me you won’t turn.’

I stared at the marble floor. Do I understand?

‘I promise,’ I murmured. I heard the door open in front of me and glanced up to see Kaspar slipping through. Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms and eyed me. My two minutes were running out. Meanwhile, my father carried on.

‘We’ll get you out of there, Violet, but it’s going to take time and I need to know some things. Have they bitten you or taken any blood at all?’

Kaspar’s eyes flickered up and met mine. I hesitated and stared. He stared back.

‘No,’ I lied. The tiniest crease of surprise appeared on his brow. Why did I lie?

‘Good,’ my father said. ‘Make sure they don’t try and give you any of their blood whilst taking your blood. That will turn you.’

I shook my head and a few more tears pricked my eyes, which I wiped away, conscious of the fact Kaspar was still frowning at me. ‘You can’t leave me here, Dad. You can’t,’ I muttered, jumping as a small sob escaped. ‘They kill people!’

I heard him sigh – it wasn’t much, but I clung onto it, savouring the sound. ‘I have to, Vi, for the moment, anyway. But we won’t give up, I have contacts and—’

I cut him off as Kaspar started walking towards me. I clutched at the phone with two hands, as though that might stop him taking it and asked the most burning question I had, realizing it was my last.

‘How’s Lily? Quickly,’ I added, trying to put across the urgency.

He picked up on my panic and didn’t hesitate. ‘Weak, but the doctors say she’s doing well and should make a recovery by—’

Kaspar whipped the phone away from my ear, pressing it to his own. As if my hands were nailed to it I followed him, refusing to let go until I found I was clutching at thin air: he had flitted back into the living room and rejoined the rest of his family.

The door was slammed in my face before I could follow him and when I tried the handle, it was locked. Falling against it I tried to listen, but heard nothing.

I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

TWELVE

Kaspar

‘I think that’s enough time talking, don’t you, Lee?’ I spat, closing the door to the living room behind me and shutting Violet out.

‘Put her back on, Varn.’

I chuckled, aware that my father was stood back, scrutinising my words. ‘I don’t think so. We have to talk business.’

The sound of his breathing down the line stopped: I assumed he pulled the phone away from his mouth. In the background, I could hear him discussing what to say, presumably with one of his poisonous advisors who were so determined to make our life difficult as government policy.

‘I refuse to speak directly with anyone other than your ambassadors or the King,’ Lee eventually replied, coolly.

‘Well, you are out of luck then, Lee. I’m heir and any business of my father’s is mine too. If you have a problem with that, take it up with my father’s advisors. Oh, wait, that’s me.’

I imagined the cogs turning in his head. Sky’s wife, Arabella, took both their children, the eldest only two, into her arms and out of the room, muttering something about disliking the politics. She had made her stance on Violet quite clear – she disapproved of the whole thing; so much so, she had initially refused to visit with Sky from Romania.

‘Then you will do,’ he mocked. He sounds like the girl. ‘You know of John Pierre, I presume?’

John Pierre? Yes, I know him all right.

‘Of course.’

‘And I will assume you are aware that it was his son you killed in Trafalgar Square?’

‘Clearly.’

‘Then I am sure it will not come as a surprise to you to hear that he is not particularly pleased.’

No shit, Sherlock. ‘No surprise whatsoever.’

‘Men fuelled by revenge are the most dangerous. Watch out, Varn,’ Lee snarled.

The whole room stared at me, my father’s gaze the most prominent, listening, waiting for my reaction. ‘That’s not much of a threat, Lee. You are aware that our Kingdom could halve the population of this country in a day, aren’t you?

Tick, tick went the human mind. ‘You might be a leech, Varn, but somehow I don’t think you’re cut out for genocide.’

‘Perhaps not, but I would happily make a start with your daughter.’

The words had hardly left my mouth when Sky held his hand out for the phone, obviously deciding I had done enough damage. I gave it to him gladly and he continued the conversation, Father diverting his attention to him. Jag sauntered up and nudged me below the ribs.

‘Look at you, little brother, talking politics. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have had a personality overhaul.’ Then he lowered his voice and turned so he was no longer facing Mary, his girlfriend. ‘Nice catch for a human.’ He winked at me and left to shower Mary with compliments. So he hasn’t changed in the time he has been away then.

I slipped from the room, tired of the talk. Girly sat curled on the bottom step, her head buried in her arms. I couldn’t hear sobbing, although as she raised her head her eyes were still red and blotched, but gleaming with a hope that changed to an accusing stare once she realized there was no phone in my hand. She scrabbled up and backed into the banister as I passed, her stare following me as I thought I heard her mutter that I was a jerk.

THIRTEEN

Violet

Hours merged into days, every day as insignificant as the next, time passing in a blur, nothing standing out.

I spent almost all of my time cooped up in my room, amusing myself as best I could. It had been a week exactly since that short phone call, and it still troubled my thoughts. I had hoped that I would be able to call my family again, but had given up on that. Nobody talked to me, apart from the occasional, brief exchange.

It would be my birthday in thirteen days. I would turn eighteen a hostage. My fingers tightened into a ball as I felt a familiar lurch in my stomach and my throat closed up.

A brisk knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and I quickly wiped my eyes, just in case they looked teary. Without waiting for a reply, the person entered as I was standing up. To my surprise, it was not Fabian, who seemed to be the only one interested in me, but Sky.

He cleared his throat, filling the room with a definite awkwardness. I shifted from one foot to the other. ‘You’re wanted downstairs. Now.’

‘Why?’

As he left, his gaze glided up and down my body, taking in my attire – a scruffy pair of Lyla’s old pyjamas. ‘You have two minutes.’

His deliberate avoiding of the question unnerved me, but I was already in the wardrobe when I heard the bedroom door close. I grabbed something a little less inappropriate and changed.

I left the room, wondering what the great urgency was. I had never been requested to be ‘seen’ in the fifteen days I had been here and Sky had never spoken directly to me.

The eldest Varn child was much older than the other five: a thousand, Fabian said, but he was not the heir to the throne. No, Kaspar was heir. Sky was married to Arabella, a few years his junior and they had two daughters. They lived in Romania mostly, as did Jag and Mary; I suspected it was my arrival that had prompted their visit.

The entrance hall was a frenzy of activity when I reached the top of the staircase. It seemed as though most of the household had gathered, all wearing long black cloaks, even tiny Thyme. Servants rushed about, passing various objects around, before hastily bowing and darting off to their next task. I spotted Annie, who gave me the smallest of smiles.

‘It’s like trying to get an army on the move,’ Fabian said, coming up to greet me, grimacing at the bickering of the Varn siblings below. Unlike the others, he wore normal clothes.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, leaning over the banister.

He grimaced again. ‘It’s a hunt.’ My lips pursed and I swallowed back a gag, realizing why Sky had avoided my question a moment ago.

‘A hunt for what?’ He shot me a look that said, ‘As if you don’t know.’ I closed my eyes. ‘But what do I have to do with that?’

‘They’re going for the weekend, so I’m staying to keep an eye on you.’

Below, Kaspar and Cain snapped at each other, unbothered by what they were about to do. ‘I don’t need babysitting. What the hell would I do? It’s not as though I could go anywhere.’

He shrugged, heading down the stairs. ‘You tell me. But it could be worse. Kaspar could be staying.’ He gave me a knowing look.

That is true. I would be an idiot to trust Fabian, but he was a lesser of two evils when compared to Kaspar.

The King strode forward and, as he did so, the butler rushed forward, swinging both of the enormous doors open. He disappeared down them and one by one, the others filtered after him. Kaspar, however, hung back, waiting for Fabian at the base of the stairs. We both descended.